


The "Pizza" Delivery

by abearinahamtilonsuit



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gay Sex, Giggolos, M/M, Multi, Pizza, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abearinahamtilonsuit/pseuds/abearinahamtilonsuit
Summary: The latest job Mr. Krabs forced on Squidward and Spongebob is that of the ol' pizza delivery prostitute. Both of them have to go together...despite how much tension there is between them.
Relationships: Sandy Cheeks/Squidward Tentacles, SpongeBob SquarePants/Patrick Star, SpongeBob SquarePants/Squidward Tentacles, Spongebob SquarePants/ppl at the crack den, Squidward/His clarinet
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	The "Pizza" Delivery

“Hurry up with those chairs, Spongebob!” Squidward squeaked. “It’s after closing, and I’d like to go HOME...”  
Spongebob ignored him, pushing his index finger into the newly-shined surface of a Krusty Krab table. He became distracted from his dull task when the phone rang.  
“I got it. I got it! Coming!” As he said this, he came a little. Squidward gave him a look as his oversized nose picked up a slight scent of the musk. In jealousy, Squidward snatched the phone from Spongebob’s grip.  
“Hello?” his nasally, sensual voice answered.  
Spongebob whined as he came again and fell to the floor.  
“Sorry sir, we’re closed,” Squidward began to say, eager to get home to his clarinet-shaped fleshlight.  
Mr. Krabs, smelling some money, stole the phone away from Squidward and said, “Ahoy there!” in his grainy, chainsmoker voice. “Krusty Krab, how can I help you?”  
He had already had a half-formed moneymaking scheme in his head before the call, but it bloomed as the customer spoke.  
“Yeah, uh, can I order a pizza?” asked the customer. After a beat, he added, “Wink. Wink.”  
Of course Mr. Krabs had considered being a pimp before, but the moment had never been right. Until now, that is. He glanced at his crew, sizing up Squidward’s lanky limbs. Each arm and leg was bathed in a slippery blue muck that smelled of lilac. Not to mention Squidward’s nose was erotic in and of itself, due to its unique shape and form. It hung low and heavy. And something else did too -- it was clear as day as Squidward never constricted his dong with pants.  
Then there was Spongebob. There were so many holes on that sponge that he was practically irresistible. Mr. Krabs had definitely considered hitting that before, but he knew he needed to be professional. And besides, Spongebob seemed like the type to have thirty partners and just as many STIs. Mr. Krabs knew about his crack den visits in the early hours of the morning, and the noon hours too, and the pre-dinner doses of speed that made the boy so endlessly cheerful. Mr. Krabs wouldn’t be surprised at all if, in a haze, Spongebob cheated on Patrick. In fact, it probably happened on the regular. He imagined Patrick sometimes participated, too. But Mr. Krabs had to stop his imagining before he got too distracted and before his shell broke open.  
“‘Pizza’?” he replied. His eyes turned to dollar signs, a sign of arousal in crabs. “Of course we have ‘pizza.’”  
Squidward, disturbed by the overt sexuality taking over his workplace, interjected, “Uh, Mr. Krab--”  
Mr. Krabs was not about to let Squidward “soften” him one way or another. “Our ‘delivery squid’ will bring it right over.” Mr. Krabs put as much of a verbal wink as he could into these words.  
Squidward knew what they meant…and he protested, despite knowing that he had always wanted more than his clarinet to quench his libido. “Mr. Krabs, we don’t serve pizza,” Squidward complained.  
Mr. Krabs, fully aware that the pizza was not the objective, dragged his claws across some Krabby Patties nonetheless, decimating into a flat disk that resembled a pizza. He quickly boxed it in one of his erotic roleplay pizza boxes -- one with a hole in the back. He knew it would come in handy eventually. He was so glad that he didn’t give it away at that yard sale following the divorce.  
“We don’t deliver,” Squidward whined with increasing desperation.  
“We don’t deliver, but you do,” Mr. Krabs said, shoving the pizza hard into Squidward’s ribs like the dom he always had been. He began a confident stride to the bathroom to whack off.  
Squidward wouldn’t let him -- not yet. “Can’t you just get Spongebob to do it?”  
“Great idea!” Mr. Krabs said. This had been his plan all along. “Take him with you.”  
Spongebob slid into the scene as smoothly as a fuckboy, a smile pasted on his face. Spongebob wasn’t about to say it, but this was not his first “pizza delivery,” and it certainly would not be his last. This, for him, was living. But then, so was every drugged-out moment of his sad, pointless life.  
Aware of the implications of “pizza delivery” with Spongebob, Squidward cried, “That’s not what I had in mind!” But in his daydreams, images of him and Spongebob, even Patrick, had always been playing in the nastiest ways he could picture. He wanted to lean in, to finally stop resisting, but he couldn’t.  
He couldn’t trust anyone. Not after his abusive relationship with Sandy. When she got drunk, the karate never subsided. He ran to his old ex, Mrs. Puff, for help, but all she wanted to do was fuck. She was of no help for the emotional support he always needed.  
Spongebob was always there, strangely. Somehow, no matter how angry Squidward was, no matter how much he lashed out, the little yellow man showered him with unwanted gifts and uninvited (but not unappreciated) advances. Squidward loved when Spongebob called him “Squid” -- such a personal touch; such a caring tone.  
And now that the two were set to make love, albeit with a third party involved, Squidward wanted more than anything to let go of his angry persona. But it held his psyche tighter than Mr. Krabs’s claws around a dollar bill.  
Squidward came out of his thoughts when the two were outside beside the boat, conducting a quality check for the customer. It became clear that Spongebob had done this before.  
“Front end,” Spongebob said, pointing at Squidward’s chode. “Check.”  
“Antenna,” said Spongebob, pointing at his own thin but lengthy cock. “Check.” He flicked it; an audible doinggg shook Squidward’s eardrums.  
Then, Spongebob bent over, his face arousingly close to Squidward’s ass. “Bumper. Check.” He leaned in so close that Squidward could feel his warm breath on his butt. “Bumper sticker,” Spongebob declared, analyzing Squidward’s “I Break Sea Urchins” tattoo, which rested quietly, typically unnoticed, on his right ass cheek. “Check.”  
The fact that Spongebob had noticed this detail that nobody else had ever mentioned brought Squidward a light of joy that he hadn’t felt in years. The facts were clear: Spongebob had indeed checked out Squidward’s ass before, and he would indeed do it again.  
He was startled when Spongebob latched his mouth around his thick octopus cock and sucked hard. Squidward couldn’t help but inflate like a balloon.  
“Dick pressure,” Spongebob said, his voice high with excitement. He sighed the dick-scented air from his lungs into Squidward’s face, essentially blowing him away. “Check.”  
Squidward tried to play it cool, leaning back in the boat and folding his arms behind his head. Spongebob couldn’t know how he felt -- it would make things too complicated. Spongebob had Patrick. Squidward had no one. And even if Spongebob was single too, Squidward wasn’t sure he was ready to be hurt again.  
“Inspection complete!” Spongebob declared proudly, settling down in the boat beside Squidward. “We’re really making history here, Squidward! That lucky customer is going to get the first krabby patty ‘pizza’ ever!”  
Squidward felt he had to be cold. “Good,” he said in as icy a tone as he could muster. He knew what they were doing next: they had to warm up and get hard, and he wasn’t in the mood to be a top. “Then you drive.” He tossed his Krusty Krab hat to Spongebob.  
“I can’t, I’m still in sex ed,” Spongebob said.  
“Come on, Spongebob,” Squidward urged. “It’s just a warm-up.”  
Spongebob was suddenly afraid. He’d never been a top before. “Well, yeah, but--”  
“Just do what you do with Patrick.” Squidward had heard the stories, some of them first-hand through the wall of his house while he cried himself to sleep.  
“Well, okay,” said Spongebob, looking down and waggling his fingers. He rubbed his hands together and smiled in anticipation, but then-- “No, wait, don’t tell me.” Sweat rolled off his brow.  
“Get it up,” Squidward commanded.  
“Huh?” Spongebob queried.  
“Get, it up,” Squidward ordered, pointing at Spongebob’s cock.  
“Right. Get, it up.” Spongebob fiddled with his cock, sort of helicoptering it, but nothing was happening. He moaned, not out of pleasure, but out of frustration.  
“Get it up!!” Squidward shouted.  
“Okay, okay!!”  
“Shift it in your hands, Spongebob!”  
“My hands?” Spongebob looked at them. Why was he so nervous? He had fucked a thousand times before, with nearly everyone in Bikini Bottom, but Squidward was different. There was pressure here that he didn’t expect or understand. “Oh yeah, my hands!”  
He looked down at his shoestring dick, ready to go, but then his vision failed him. His dick appeared to turn Asian and he had no idea what to do.  
“GET IT UP!!” Squidward barked like one of Mr. Krabs’s navy officers.  
“GETTING IT UP!!” Spongebob squealed, grabbing it as hard as he could and yanking violently. “GETTING IT UP!!”  
Squidward was instantly disturbed and realized he had to take control of the situation. “Give me your dick, Spongebob!” He reached his hand for it, and soon they were both wrestling for control of the yellow joystick. “Give me your dick!!”  
“Getting it up, getting it up,” Spongebob cried repeatedly, moving so quickly that his voice bubbled: “ge--e-e-e-t-t-t-i-i-i-n-n--g-i-t-t-e-u-u-up-pp-p.”  
The two of them yelled, still vying for control as the velocity spun Spongebob’s lithe body in circles.  
Squidward gave in eventually, realizing he couldn’t challenge fate.  
Spongebob was out of control, cumming over and over as he repeated: “Getting it up, getting it up, getting it up.” Soon he realized that his balls were empty, and with a horrified look in his eyes, he muttered, “getting it up” one final time.  
Squidward leaned over to him. “Well, you got it up. And you know what? I think you’re out of cum!” He pointed at Spongebob’s shriveled scrotum. “And you know what else? Your cum is everywhere!” He pointed at the boat, which was now draped with a generous blanket of white liquid.  
“And you know what else else?” Spongebob asked. “I think your cock is getting cold.”  
“And my cock is cold!” Squidward cried sarcastically, as he thought, at least it’ll still work when we get there! “Oh, my cock is cold, not my cock! Oh, how could it get any worse?!” He kicked Spongebob as hard as he could in the balls, and a final burst of whiteness melted away the steering wheel of the boat. While it might have aroused the customer before, it was completely unusable now.  
Spongebob looked at the damage his body had done. “Well,” he said, presenting the still-clean pizza box to Squidward, “we can still deliver the pizza.” He thought they could pass this off as misunderstanding the customer’s order as a legitimate request for a pizza. Squidward was not enthused, but he was not eager to be fired, either.  
The two of them hiked for a long time. Squidward’s feet ached. They began to sing a song, in which Squidward’s only part was “Ow, ow, ow,” repeated over and over as his old Sandy-inflicted tentacle injuries returned with a vengeance.  
Spongebob paid him no mind, using his cries of pain as percussion in a song of misery. “The Krusty Krab ‘pizza,’ is the ‘pizza,’ for you and me! The Krusty Krab ‘pizza,’ is the pizza--”  
Squidward interrupted, “And my feet are killing me.” But really, his heart was killing him, a heart that realized in its utter exhaustion how much it wanted only Spongebob, and how distant that desire was. Squidward knew his walls could never be broken, even by the little yellow ray of sunshine that was his neighbor and coworker. The years they had spent together; the endless days of hard work only eased by the vibrant sexual tension between them. And yet, Squidward could never say the words he needed to say. So he complained instead, a rhythmic “Ow, ow, ow,” as the backdrop to Spongebob’s joy; this was their fated relationship, and he knew it.  
Squidward was lost in his thoughts until he tripped over Spongebob, who lay on his side next to the road.  
“Spongebob,” Squidward groaned, “What are you doing?”  
“It’s an old pioneer trick. I saw it in a porno once,” Spongebob explained.  
“Spongebob, this is no time for--”  
“Shhhh! It’s working!”  
“What is?”  
Spongebob pointed at the horizon. A vehicle approached, driven by a muscled man whose loneliness was made clear by his choice of truck. “Truck!! 16 wheels!” Spongebob cried. “Now I can show you how the pioneers flashed people for rides.”  
Spongebob gave Squidward the pizza and ventured into the street, performing a striptease accompanied by sexy yodeling. Squidward jerked off half-assedly as this proceeded, more out of boredom than anything. And Spongebob began practically humping the road.  
The truck driver was shocked by what he saw. Instinctually, he (verbally) ejaculated, “Crashin’, flashin’ break dancer!” as he blew his horn.  
Squidward, noticing this reaction, assumed that Spongebob had gained the driver’s interest. Squidward cried, “He’s stopping, he’s stopping!” He then realized that the truck had a homophobic bumper sticker and that the driver must be one of those straight people he’d read about.  
Spongebob didn’t understand -- he was going to die out there with his ill-advised striptease. Squidward wouldn’t let that happen, but more importantly, Squidward’s dick wouldn’t let that happen.  
He leapt into the asphalt, scooping his coworker up in his arms. Spongebob realized in that moment how strong Squidward’s arms were; how fast his thin but muscled body was. Spongebob realized that Squidward did smell like lilac, but he wasn’t sure if, as Mr. Krabs had once said, it was because of money. Perhaps…it was because of love.  
The two reached the side of the road, and seemed to reach an unspoken agreement to never mention this heroic moment again.  
They were right back to walking, but both of them were changed. They pretended that nothing was amiss.  
As they strolled through a storm of sand and wind, Spongebob’s silky voice broke through the noise: “The Krusty Krab ‘pizza,’ is the ‘pizza,’ we deliver-y!”  
As Spongebob sang, Squidward’s erection was blown into his own face, and he had to stuff it in his mouth to keep it from getting in his eyes.  
“The Krusty Krab ‘pizza,’ is the ‘pizza,’ very tay-ay-stey!”

A gust of wind dragged Spongebob backward, though he clutched the box tightly, knowing it was a crucial component of the experience for the customer. Without the pizza itself, they had no excuse; they would be expected to fuck if they couldn’t pretend the whole thing was a misunderstanding. And Spongebob just didn’t have any fucking energy left in him. So he couldn’t let go, even as the wind flushed the pizza box and dragged him this way and that.  
Squidward dropped his cock from his mouth to ask, “Will you let go of that stupid pizza already?”  
“I can’t! It’s for the customer!” Spongebob felt truly trapped, like he had never before in his life. He wouldn’t admit it, but appeasing others was the only thing that gave his life substance and meaning, and the inability to do so would spell failure for him. He couldn’t handle that; couldn’t go down that road. Not again.  
Squidward, on the other hand, had never left that road. “Who cares about the customer?” he snapped, thinking, you don’t need his approval, but how could he say that without disrupting their false platonic state?  
“I do!” Spongebob cried. He wished he didn’t. He wished he had Squidward’s courage to say “fuck you” to the judgmental folk.  
“Well I don’t!”  
Spongebob gasped. “Squidward!”  
“Let go of that pizza!”  
“No!” Spongebob was being carried into the darkness now, the gusts pulling him further and further from the road. Squidward grasped his ankles, unwilling to ever let go.  
“Spongebob!” Squidward cried with concern. “Let go of the pizza!”  
“No!” Spongebob fought back tears. He would rather die than fail, and showing up pizza-less was failure. “It’s for the customer!”  
“Spongebob!” Squidward panicked as he saw that they were approaching an underwater whirlpool, a sort of tornado of the sea. It could tear them both apart. “Let go of the pizza,” he begged.  
“Noooo!” Spongebob shouted as the tornado sucked him into its butthole.  
“Spongebob!” Squidward screeched, holding on tighter than ever.  
As the tornado scooped them high into the air, Squidward realized that the pizza might’ve ironically been the only thing saving them from certain death. Some part of Squidward wanted to live; a part that had been ignited by Spongebob. Time seemed to slow as he watched the yellow man, slick with the sweat of determination. Squidward felt now that he knew what he was fighting for. He felt a clarity that brought life to his rusty old tentacles; that healed his pained feet.  
“Hang on to the pizza!” he shouted. There was no way he was letting this go.  
The tornado ejaculated them from its head, and the two fell to the ground separately, each screaming in horror.  
The pizza box opened up miraculously, and a parachute of melted cheese and pepperoni emerged, floating Spongebob gently to the ground. Below him, Squidward crashed hard into the sand.  
Squidward was dazed only briefly before a new worry came to him. “Hey. Hey,” he said, “Wh-where’s the road? Wh-where’s the road?!?”  
A tumbleweed rolled in front of him. Normally, he would have grabbed it and kept it -- Squidward had a strange attraction to tumbleweeds, as they were lost wanderers like himself. He liked to touch them, to keep them on his mantle; to taste their broken sticks and gyrate among them.  
But today, no such desire came over him.  
“We’re doomed!” he cried. “Oh! How are we gonna get home? Which way do we go? What are we gonna do now? There’s no road here!”  
Spongebob landed gently right then and began to look around for landmarks. He inquisitively gazed at a stone: one side was slathered with a thick layer of moss, and the other was clean.  
“I think town is this way,” Spongebob said, pointing in the direction that the moss faced.  
“Oh, don’t tell me, Jethro. The pioneers?” Squidward shot back, but this time, it was with a flirtatious tone. It had been so long since he flirted with someone -- years, in fact -- and the last time it happened, he was much younger and had a fashionable unibrow. That was before the war. That was before Mrs. Puff. And most of all, that was before Sandy.  
But he had to try. He wanted this more than anything.  
“That’s right. Moss always points to civilization,” Spongebob explained, nodding along as if nothing was off. But he felt it, too. Is he flirting with me? thought Spongebob.  
“That way? That way there?” Squidward teased, pointing in the direction of the moss but with his finger incredibly close to Spongebob’s soft face.  
Spongebob nodded, his neck muscles squeaking in delight.  
“So, let me get this straight,” Squidward chaffed, “You think that we should go that way?” He was right in Spongebob’s face now, and Spongebob felt a tingle, as if he indeed had more cum in him than they had both assumed.  
“Yep,” Spongebob said coolly, unsure how to respond.  
“Well, then I’m going this way.” Squidward turned and strolled away, swaying his hips as much as he could manage without causing severe spinal damage.  
“Huh? Squid!” Spongebob cried.  
Squidward smiled a quiet little smile at this nickname. He smiled wider when Spongebob ran after him. A fantasy played in Squidward’s mind, one of the two of them, living in the wilds together, without Patrick or Mr. Krabs or Sandy or anyone else.  
“Wait! I don’t think--” Spongebob protested as he ran to meet Squidward’s gate.  
“Trust me,” Squidward said in his sexy voice -- which also hadn’t had much use lately -- “I know where I’m going.” And he did -- he was walking away from Bikini Bottom, away from the city that had caused him so much pain.  
What am I doing? he asked himself. It was as if he was possessed with a confidence and freedom that had before only existed in his memories of the past.  
As they walked, Spongebob burst again into song, and Squidward listened tentatively. It dawned on Squidward that this might have been a sort of foreplay, not dissimilar from what Spongebob and Patrick did on weekends.  
“The Krusty Krab ‘pizza,’ is the ‘pizza,’ absolutivally,” Spongebob sang. Squidward knew Spongebob was trying to get his attention. He pretended to ignore it to bait Spongebob into trying harder. And he did.  
Spongebob performed a beatboxing variation, followed by an outright sexual display. He majestically bounced his butt cheeks, shaking them together, creating a hot friction that almost forced Squidward to respond. But he stayed strong.  
Spongebob next put on the chainsmoker voice he learned from Mr. Krabs. He sounded as if he’d swallowed a brick.  
It wasn’t long until Spongebob’s voice gave out, and the two of them were exhausted from the sexual and emotional tension between them. Spongebob gave an incoherent mumble of a variation on the song.  
The two took a break, lying on the sand.  
Squidward began to feel that he needed some substance now; the playful teasing was not enough. This tension had been building for years. He was tired of it, and he was going to go for it. “Sponge,” he said, tasting the nickname in his mouth like a delicate tart. “I’ve got to eat something.”  
Patrick was in the front of Spongebob’s mind, but in the back of his mind was the time that he and Patrick raised a clam together and Patrick never showed up for the child. Instead, he became a lazy drunk. That’s part of the reason Spongebob got into all those drugs in the first place, and they kept him numb enough. But what if there was another way? What if there was someone else?  
Spongebob couldn’t reach a decision fast enough, so he bought some time by pretending not to know what Squidward was talking about. “I heard in times of hardship, the pioneers would eat coral.”  
Squidward snatched the coral and deep-throated it, showing off the skill he’d practiced so much under the bleachers of his college gym. Those were better days, but Squidward knew that this day could become the best of them all, if he played his cards right.  
Spongebob interjected, “No, maybe it wasn’t coral.”  
Squidward spat the coral out, hungry for dick.  
“Maybe it was sand. No, no, mud,” Spongebob said, trying to think of something without a phallic shape.  
“Give me your dick!” Squidward demanded at last.  
Spongebob realized he couldn’t play clueless anymore. It hit him that he wanted this, but also that any substance still residing within his balls would have to be saved for the customer. “Wait, I remember now; it was coral!” he cried, hoping Squidward would just go back to sucking on the flora.  
Squidward was unfazed. “Give it to me!”  
“No!” Spongebob resisted. “We promised it’s for the customer.”  
Squidward took a breath and leaned in. “You’re right. It’s for the customer.”  
“Yeah,” Spongebob said, suspicious.  
“Maybe we better...check on it. Make sure it’s okay.”  
“Well…”  
“Just a peek,” Squidward insisted, tugging Spongebob’s pants forward a little bit so he could see inside them.  
“Okay it’s fine!” Spongebob slapped Squidward’s hand away.  
“No, I think I saw something!”  
Spongebob loosened his grip and let Squidward strip his pants completely off. Patrick was fading from his mind now. So were his lovers at the crack den.  
Squidward gazed lovingly at Spongebob’s package. “Oh! No, I was wrong. Looks okay. Sure is a fine-looking package,” Squidward crooned.  
“Yeah,” Spongebob said, truly appreciating his body for the first time.  
“What’s that?” Squidward teased. “Is that the cock?”  
“Yeah,” nodded Spongebob with a horny break in his voice.  
“And the balls?” Squidward asked, pointing delicately.  
“Yeah!” Spongebob’s sex voice came out of his mouth before he could stop it.  
“Oh, looks good, huh?”  
A stream of drool rolled down Spongebob’s cheek and he licked his buck teeth, still taking in the glory of his own manhood. It sparkled in the evening light. But then, the word “failure” flashed before his eyes. He could not let the customer down. He could not fail again.  
“Wait a second,” Spongebob halted, pulling his pants so high they became high-waisted, even though they weren’t before. “I know what you’re trying to do, Squidward. I’m not letting you suck my dick!”  
“Give me that dick!” Squidward demanded.  
“No!”  
“Don’t make me take it away from you, Spongebob,” Squidward cooed, knowing Spongebob couldn’t keep up the act forever.  
“Get away,” Spongebob cried, running off into the blue with the pizza box in his arms.  
“Get back here, Spongebob!” Squidward ordered, chasing after him. “Give me that dick!”  
“No!”  
“SPONGEBOB!!!”  
“No!!”  
“Spongebob!”  
“No!”  
Squidward was panting. All that arousal can really take it out of a person. “Wait,” Squidward mumbled, but Spongebob kept running.  
“No,” he cried. “No!” Until he ran straight into Squidward’s supple, but firm, ass, and fell onto his back.  
Squidward spun around, pointing in Spongebob’s face. “I want that dick,” he said. “And you’re gonna hand it over one way or another.” Squidward beat his fist into his palm, making Spongebob’s sub vibes tingle.  
“Look, we’re saved!” Spongebob called out, pointing to his left.  
“Sure, we’re saved,” Squidward replied. “Now give me some dick!” As he made this last command, he descended upon Spongebob, his eyes red-speckled and his palms made into angry claws over his head.  
“No, really, Squid!” Spongebob said, dropping the pizza box beside him. He went into another striptease. “We’re saved! We’re saved! We’re saved!” As he shouted, he jumped out of his pants, flashing his lingerie again and again.  
“Will you cut that out?” Squidward said desperately. He couldn’t take being teased much more.  
Spongebob continued his dance, chanting “Saved, saved, saved” repeatedly, as Squidward grew increasingly irritated.  
“Yeah, we are saved,” Spongebob concluded, approaching a boulder with a dick-shaped protrusion.  
Confused, Squidward said, “It’s just a stupid boulder.”  
“It’s not just a boulder,” Spongebob said, holding back tears, “it’s a cock. A cock!” He began crying out of joy. “A cock! A big, beautiful, old cock! Oh, the pioneers used to ride these babies for miles,” he said, referencing the pioneer’s desperate masturbation habits. He leapt on top of it, the protrusion sliding firmly into his asshole. “And it’s in great shape.”  
“Spongebob! Will you forget the stupid pioneers?” Squidward pleaded, concerned that Spongebob would finish on a rock’s cock and not on his. “Have you ever noticed that there are none of them left? That’s because they were lousy stripteasers, sucked coral, and didn’t shave their algae! And now you’re telling me, they thought they could ride--”  
Spongebob ignored Squidward, instead hopping up and down on the protrusion until he got hard again.  
Squidward was amazed by the hardness of Spongebob’s cock, wondering where it came from. “--Rocks,” he said, in shock. It dawned on him that Spongebob was about to finish, and he cried, “Hold on there, Jethro!”  
Perhaps their worries had been unfounded. They could deliver a pizza and a sexual extravaganza, thanks to the rock.  
Squidward came down to Earth. Running away to the wilds with Spongebob was not the way to go. Rather, they should do their job and get home safe tonight, so that tomorrow, they could start building their future together.  
So he led Spongebob in the right direction this time, to the customer’s house. The rock remained firmly lodged in Spongebob’s tight ass.  
When they neared the house, Spongebob shook the rock out of his ass as he proclaimed, “I can’t wait to see the look on our customer’s face.”  
He rang the doorbell, Squidward right behind him.  
A red fish with a hairy belly and a crop top polo answered the door. That was the typical archetype of these kinds of customers, though, so Spongebob and Squidward had been prepared for this all along.  
“Yeah?” the fish said.  
“Congratulations, sir,” Spongebob announced in his sexiest voice. “Your Krabby Patty ‘pizza’ is here!” He held the box in front of his dick.  
“Wow! Thanks!” the fish exclaimed, reaching for the box. “I’ve been dying for one of these! It…” He trailed off. “Where’s my kink?”  
Spongebob shrunk inside a little bit. “What kink?”  
“My kink! The sexy doctor costume! Don’t tell me you forgot my kink!!” he shrieked in anger.  
Spongebob flipped through his order notebook. “But you didn’t mention any--”  
“How am I supposed to fuck this cock without my kink??” he spat. Globules of saliva condensed onto Spongebob’s skin, which would normally arouse him, but only aroused tears in his eyes this time.  
“But-- but--” he stuttered, utterly flabbergasted.  
“Didn’t you ever once think of the customer?” the fish snapped. “You call yourself a ‘delivery’ boy?? Well I ain’t buyin’!” He slammed the door in Spongebob’s face.  
Squidward winced at the whole event.  
This was Spongebob’s worst nightmare. He had failed. And what had he lost in trying not to fail? That was what tore at his heartstrings the most -- the advances from Squidward that he had rejected, only with the hope of pleasing the customer. But at the end of the day, as Linkin Park once so deftly put it, “It doesn’t even matter.”  
“Sponge?” Squidward asked, as a nearly-tearful Spongebob turned to him. “Sponge? It’s okay. Sponge?”  
Spongebob fell to the asphalt, wailing intensely.  
“Sponge?” Squidward pressed. An anger welled up in him that he couldn’t tamp down.  
He grabbed the pizza box, affixed it firmly atop his dick, and stormed to the door. He knocked ferociously, just like he wished he and Spongebob would one day.  
“Another one?” the red fish complained. “Look, I told your little friend, I ain’t paying for that.”  
Squidward only became more angry at this comment, because Spongebob was not little in that area, just thin but still long, like a sexy tapeworm.  
“Well, this one’s on the house!” Squidward raged, slapping the fish in the mouth with his gargantuan octopus cock.  
Not long after, Squidward strolled back to where Spongebob lay. Spongebob was drying the tears from his eye as his knight in shining octopus slime came to him. “Did he change his mind?” asked Spongebob thickly.  
“Sure did,” Squidward said, hands on his hips in prideful fashion. “Sucked the whole thing in one go.”  
“No kink?”  
“No.”  
Squidward smiled. It was his turn to get off. “Now, take me home,” he said suggestively.  
“Are you kidding?” Spongebob laughed. “We have just enough time to make it back to work!”  
“Work?” Squidward whined, knowing that his balls would be bluer than ever if he didn’t cum soon. “Oh, my aching testicles!”  
The two worked side-by-side, as usual.  
Something had changed. There was something they knew; something that gave them a spark of hope; that kept their cocks hard throughout their mundane tasks.  
But it couldn’t come to the surface. Not yet. The time wasn’t right.  
Luckily, Spongebob and Squidward, like most Jehovah’s Witnesses, were willing to wait for heaven.


End file.
